Photographic Mermories
by IggyChu Forever
Summary: A small Hetalia oneshot about England and France. FrUk, human names used.


Francis's eyelids fluttered. He let it a tiny sigh and rolled over, clasping a tattered photograph to his chest. Closing his eyes, he pulled his knees up and settled down into a deep slumber, still clutching the photograph.

A small blue butterfly landed softly on his exposed cheek, resting only for a moment before flitting away again. Cherry blossom petals began drifting down slowly, like pink snow, landing silently in his long golden locks. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the pale green leaves and the blushing pink blossoms, creating a soft, golden glow. Tiny butterflies of every colour fluttered around in the golden haze, giving the tiny secluded area an aura of magic. The silence was made up of songbirds, the tiny breeze that danced through the branches of the tree and the soft breathing of Francis.

A rustle broke the silence from outside the tiny alcove. Then a young man, no older than Francis stepped into the enchanted clearing. He spotted Francis and dropped down beside him, his brilliant green eyes looking out from underneath large, heavy eyebrows. He reached out his hand and brushed Francis's hair softly out of his face, his eyes widened whilst doing so.

Tear stains streaked Francis's face, some of the tiny droplets still resting on his cheeks. The other, now laying down beside him, stroked his face gently, almost lovingly. He brought his face much closer to Francis's, their noses brushing, when he noticed the photograph clutched in Francis's hand. It looked as though he was holding his heart in. The other shifted his position so that he could try and maneuver it out of his hand. With a sharp tug, he pulled it out and held it up, but almost dropped it after seeing the image.

In the ink of the photograph was an image of two hands, holding each other in front of a pale golden sunset bordered by soft, fluffy white clouds. One of the hands was pale, thin and elegant while the other was more tanned, thicker and rougher. If any person looked at the photo, they would probably assume that the more elegant hand belonged to a girl and the other a boy. But the young man knew better, much better.

This photo was from three summers ago, when he and Francis had gone on a walk together one evening and discovered love. The more girlish hand belonged to Francis and the other was his. He turned the photograph over to find words, written in elegant, slanting writing and also in thick cursive. Bringing it closer to his face he read:

_Our love is beautiful_

**_perfect_**

_haunting_

**_wonderful_**

_The definition of "true love" is written in our names_

**_Together, our hearts combine into the most perfect star_**

_**We have found true love. It is us, Francis Bonnefoy and Arthur Kirkland**_

Arthur stared at the writing, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. He turned back to Francis and stared at him. Suddenly, in a rush of movement he reached forward and grabbed Francis's face, kissing him tenderly. He felt Francis wake up and become tense, but he didn't stop, he couldn't stop. The tears he had kept bottled inside if him for the long years without Francis poured out as he poured passion into the kiss. Francis relaxed and pushed back, the two sharing the emotion that they couldn't for many months.

Then, Francis pulled away to face Arthur who still had tears pouring dpwn his face.

"Arthur..." He muttred. Staring at the other who had woken him in such an abrupt way.

"Arthur...I have missed you s-so much." He said, his voice quivering as fresh tears formed in his large, cobalt blue eyes.

"Me too." Arthur responded. They stared at each other for a few moments before throwing themselves at each other.

"I can't believe t-that it's really you" Francis sobbed "Are you sure that this isn't a dream?" Arthur laughed tearfully.

"This isn't a dream. I promise you."

After a few moments, they pulled away and Arthur suddenly grasped Francis's hands.

"Do you know where we are?" He asked excitedly. Francis shook his head confusedly. Arthur leapt up quickly.

"Come on! I'll show you!" He said, pulling Francis along with him outside of the tree. He ran around to the other side of the tree and stopped abruptly, making Francis crash into him.

"Look!" Francis's eyes widened.

"This...this is..." He whispered, disbelievingly. Arthur nodded.

"This is where we fell in love Francis! This is it! Our special place!" They both looked up towards the sky. The sun was setting in a soft, pale gold with giant fluffy clouds bordering the sky.

"It's...it's just like the photo!" Francis exclaimed. Arthur nodded happily and sat down, staring up at the sky. Francis joined him on the grass. Arthur put his arm around Francis who moved up close to him, snuggling into his jacket.

"You know, you act a heck of a lot like a girl." Arthur said after a while. Francis simply smiled and watched the sun dip slowly behind the horizon, it's last golden rays illuminating his blue eyes for a split second before disappearing.

"So?" Francis said.

"Nothing. I kind of like it actually." Arthur said, smiling. Francis smirked and walked his fingers up Arthur's arm playfully, giggling. Arthur laughed and draped his jacket over the two of them, the indigo sky making the shadows larger.

"Look!" Francis breathed,pointing. A tiny yellow light flickered. It was followed by a second, and a third, and a fourth until the whole sky was filled with the glowing lights.

"Fireflies." Arthur said. Francis nodded, his blue eyes shining purple in the darkness.

"They're beautiful." He said.

"Just like you." Arthur said.

* * *

**A/N:**

Hi! This is my first ever FrUk oneshot, so I hope it was okay. I made France very sweet and uke (did I spell that right?) In this because I just love him, but people always make him seem so pervy. Anyway, I hope you liked it and please review! It makes me really happy when I get reviews, it makes me want to write more! Oh yeah, I'm also taking requests, so if you want to see me write something, just ask!

Thanksies!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Btw, in the poem thingie France's was italics, England was bold and both of them was bold and underlined.


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